


a helping hand

by azumarheart



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Deaf Clint Barton, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Poverty, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-07-28 09:20:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20061673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azumarheart/pseuds/azumarheart
Summary: Clint doesn't like to ask for help. He's been self-reliant for so long, and has been let down so many times, it's hard not to. But with his new friends, maybe asking for help is the best option. If only he didn't have to get extremely sick in order to realize this...Note: This is inspired by the linked fic, so go read that before this! This might be able to be read as a stand-alone fic, but I highly recommend you read the original series first :D





	a helping hand

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [a time to build up](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3071303) by [shadowen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowen/pseuds/shadowen). 

> I am obsessed with shadowen's series "there is a season", and I just had to write a continuation piece!! I've read the series so many times, and I always want more, so I wrote my own lol
> 
> As always, I hope you enjoy, and leave a comment with feedback! Go read the original series as well, it deserves a lot of love.

Clint still doesn’t like to ask for help.

Since the age of 9, he’d been fending for himself. Thrown through foster homes and groups homes, the only way to survive was to focus on himself. He couldn’t rely on other people to help him. After being let down far too many times, he’d grown accustomed to doing everything on his own. He’d moved out, managed to find odd jobs and get a full ride to a college. He found an outreach program that provided free hearing aids and check ups to lower class people, and finally heard clear for the first time in 10 years. All by himself.

Even if it left him dizzy from hunger sometimes, or on the grips of hypothermia, at least he was self-efficient. And if he had to be disappointed in someone, it was only himself.

He doesn’t ask for help.

It’s easy not to, when his friends seem to sense his needs, and over-provide even when they aren’t sure. Every time Clint goes to Natasha and Sam’s place, he leaves with a minimum of 2 tupperware containers of food. Steve always covers the total tip for the table when they go out to eat. Bucky ‘accidentally’ leaves a hat or pair of socks or long sleeve shirt in Clint’s dorm and tells him to just hold onto them.

So when Clint needs a bit of help, his friends are usually there for him.

He becomes too reliant on it, and he berates himself for it.

———

Bucky is gone for a week, for some second cousin’s wedding in another state. Clint was invited, but he had a presentation and 3 papers due, so he opted to stay back. Steve went in his place (which was really his spot in the first place).

It starts as just a sneeze, and Clint attributes it to pollen. Even though it’s winter and he’s never had allergies a day in his life. He sniffles all throughout his classes, and once during his presentation. He takes a stack of paper towels from the school’s bathroom on his way home. They’re hard and rough on his nose, leaving it bright red and sore, but he doesn’t have the money to buy tissues so. Whatever.

The next day he wakes up with a headache. Through the pounding of his skull, he manages to get up and ready, and mumbles a ‘goodbye’ to his roommate. Miles looks at him with concern, but Clint just waves him off, claiming that he stayed up too late working on his paper.

It’s not a lie, though. He’d been up till 2 in the morning at least, and got up a little after 6.

He has to breathe through his mouth during class, and he gets a nasty stare from the girl next to him. He sticks his tongue out at her, and laughs when she turns away, affronted.

Clint texts Bucky on his way back to the dorms, telling her about the interaction (leaving out the cause of her staring in the first place).

> **from: buckybear (1:25 PM)**
> 
> this is the asshole shit that you pulled on steve lmao
> 
> **to: buckybear (1:26 PM)**
> 
> not as much of an asshole, she stared at me first buck!! don’t blame me!!! i thought you loved me 😭
> 
> **from: buckybear (1:26 PM)**
> 
> i do love you, you’re just an asshole. makes you more lovable. (｡-_-｡)/*･*･゜ﾟ･*♡
> 
> **from: buckybear (1:27 PM)**
> 
> why was she staring in the first place? do you have bedhead or sum shit?? ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

Clint sniffles, wiping his nose on his sleeve, before hesitating. If he told Bucky he wasn’t feeling good, he’d probably flight straight home. Clint didn’t want to ruin the Barnes’s family event because of a little sniffle. Plus Bucky probably would be annoyed when he got here and realized how mild his symptoms were.

That or he’d send Natasha and Sam over, and they’d hover for a few days. And as much as Clint loves their company, they’d probably insist on buying him medicine or food. He couldn’t ask them to do that. Or to waste their time watching over him.

Or maybe they’d try to coax him into going to the doctor. Something he definitely couldn’t afford. Fuck health insurance, fuck high medical costs, fuck the government. Clint hadn’t been to the doctor since he was maybe 16. He just hunkered down and got through his symptoms. He’d been fine this time too.

> **from: buckybear (1:32 PM)**
> 
> you crash into a lamppost and pass out or somethin? or did ur adhd ass lose focus and go to the 6th dimension again (´･_･`;)
> 
> **to: buckybear (1:33 PM)**
> 
> fuck u.
> 
> **to: buckybear (1:33 PM)**
> 
> was thinking abt how fucked capitalism is and shit 😔🙏🏻✌🏻 and my hair is a lil messy ya so maybe that’s why she was looking
> 
> **from: buckybear (1:35 PM)**
> 
> ᕦ(ˇಠ_ಠ)ᕤ gimme a name and dorm # and i’ll throw hands
> 
> **to: buckybear (1:36 PM)**
> 
> when ur mans offers to fight a girl for staring at u 😫💕👌🏻🤰🏼
> 
> **from: buckybear (1:36 PM)**
> 
> fr tho anyone gives u issues and u let me kno okay babe? i love you & miss u (*´ ᴗ `)
> 
> **to: buckybear (1:37 PM)**
> 
> i love you too bucky 💕💜💕

Clint feels his chest warm and he can’t keep the smile off his face. It dulls his headache a bit, and he walks home in a good mood.

———

Clint wakes up at 3AM, confused and disoriented. His head aches so bad his vision has gone blurry. Suddenly, his stomach lurches, and he’s throwing his blankets off him to bolt to the bathroom. He throws up for way too long, before cleaning up, and curling back in bed.

Luckily, Miles doesn’t stir because Miles can sleep through fucking anything. Short of being slapped on the face, the kid won’t wake up for shit.

It takes him a long time to fall asleep, and has to get up once more to dry heave into the toilet. But he manages.

———

When Miles finally wakes up, he sees Clint curled up in bed, and doesn’t think much of it. Clint’s classes are a few buildings closer than his own, so he leaves him behind like usual.

But when Miles comes back a few hours later, and sees Clint still in bed, he gets concerned. Clint isn’t one to skip classes. He’s too dedicated, too afraid to lose his scholarship.

“Hey man you alright?” Miles asks, trying to peak around the bundle in bed. Clint doesn’t respond, and Miles notices that his hearing aids are still on the nightstand. He sighs and shakes the other boy’s shoulder a bit.

Clint blinks his eyes open slowly, before rolling over and squinting at Miles. He makes a confused humming sound, before reaching over to put his aids in.

“W’sup Miles? Somethin wrong?” he mumbles, wiping at his nose with his jacket sleeve. Miles grimaces at the action, but decides it’s worth making a big deal about.

“Dude it’s like the afternoon, are you good? You’ve been looking pretty sick lately,” Miles says, reaching out to feel Clint’s forehead. Before he can make contact, Clint shoots up into a sitting position.

“What?! Afternoon?! Fuck! I missed almost all my classes; goddamn it! Why didn’t you wake me up!?” Clint says loudly, running his hands through his messy hair and jumping into a standing position. Before Miles can get annoyed or respond, Clint’s face goes pale, and his eyes roll back. Miles just manages to catch him, and guide his limp body towards the bed rather than the floor. A moment later, Clint blinks back to consciousness and asks what happened.

“Clint, man, you just fainted.”

“Shit. Must’ve stood up too fast. Sorry about that. And sorry for yelling, it’s not your fault.”

Clint stands up slowly this time, and moves to get changed.

“What are you doing? You’re clearly sick dude, get back to bed,” Miles says incredulously. Clint keeps changing, and grabs his backpack.

“I’m not sick Miles, I told you: I just stood up too fast. I have to go to at least my afternoon classes, I can’t afford to miss. See ya!” he shouts, before rushing out the door. Miles is left stammering, and sighs when the door slams shut.

So much for helping.

———

Clint feels so dizzy walking to class. He checks his wallet, and his dismal money, and decides he can splurge on a gatorade from the vending machine. Electrolytes and all that.

He’s a few sips in before his stomach turns again, and he’s rushing into the bathroom to throw up. When he’s done, Clint glares angrily at the bottle, and the money he’s quite literally dumped into the toilet.

The rest of his day passes in a blur, and at the end of the day, he slumps into bed. He hears Miles say something about leaving so he could have a 3 day weekend with his family. Clint doesn’t see the hesitant look on Miles face as he leaves. He’s already passed out.

———

The next day he wakes up is a Friday, Miles is gone, he has no classes on his schedule, and Bucky will be home in 2 days.

Clint wakes up absolutely scorching hot, and freezing at the same time. He recognizes the familiar symptoms of a fever, and whimpers pathetically at the feeling. His head aches and his nose is still stuffy and sore from the paper towels he’s running low on. Every muscle aches, and his skin is so sensitive that every movement hurts. He’s cold and hot and upset. Being sick makes him emotional.

He cries because he misses Bucky and wishes he was here to take care of Clint. Until the tears make his nose run worse, and he just lays pitifully in bed. He sleeps on and off through the day, managing to get up a few times to pee and get some water. His stomach growls, but the thought of food makes him nauseous, so he just climbs back into bed.

The next morning, Clint wakes up to his still empty room. He doesn’t feel much better, but slightly more clear-headed than before. The fever seems to have died down, but all the other symptoms are still there.

Clint manages to roll over, and plug in his dead phone. He’s immediately bombarded with texts.

> **from: buckybear (10:05 AM)**
> 
> good morning pookiepie hope ur day is as sweet as ur ass ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
> 
> **from: buckybear (12:36 PM)**
> 
> my new second cousin in law’s younger brother is trying to get with steve LOL his name is tony and he’s a total stuck up rich kid
> 
> **from: buckybear (12:45 PM)**
> 
> oh my god steve actually is into him o no  
(ʘ ‿ ʘ) he’s blushing clint BLUSHING
> 
> **from: buckybear (1:12 PM)**
> 
> hey you alright babe? i haven’t heard from you all day. i know you’ve got a busy week but i just wanna make sure you’re alright. hope you’re doing alright (´ｰ｀)♡
> 
> **from: buckybear (4:56 PM)**
> 
> clint i’m getting kinda worried. are you okay? please respond
> 
> **from: stevieboy (5:03 PM)**
> 
> Hi Clint. Are you okay? Bucky is freaking out. I’m trying to tell him you’re probably busy, or forgot to charge your phone, but he’s not really listening. Please text him ASAP or even text me so we know you’re all good!
> 
> -Steve
> 
> **from: buckybear (5:34 PM)**
> 
> steve is threatening to take my phone away but i’m seriously worried about you. . please text me please. i lov
> 
> **from: stevieboy (5:35 PM)**
> 
> Clint,  
I had to take his phone away. He’s worked himself into a state. Again, please text when you can, we’re both really worried about you. If you don’t respond by tomorrow, I’ll send Nat and Sam to check on you. I hope you’re okay.
> 
> -Steve
> 
> **from: buckybear (12:03 AM)**
> 
> i snuck my phone away while he’s sleeping. you still haven’t responded. please just let me know if you’re okay. its not like you to not text back all day. are you mad at me? are you hurt? i’m thinking of the worst possible scenarios. i love you clint please reply

Clint chokes up at the messages. The worry that Bucky and Steve are showing, in their own respective ways, hits him right in the heart. It’s so kind and thoughtful and he has to set his phone down for a moment in order to hold the tears back. He considers the time, 8:35 AM, and thinks about his response.

Not replying would equal Sam and Nat coming over, which would lead to the whole medicine and doctor spending he was worried about. Responding with the truth would mean Bucky and Steve flying home early to take care of him. Which he didn’t want them to do (secretly, yes he did, but he couldn’t allow himself to be selfish enough to cut their vacation short).

> **to: buckybear (8:37 AM)**
> 
> buck i’m so sorry!! i woke up late and had to rush to class, but then i left my phone in my first class 😥 by the time i realized it was late afternoon and that classroom was locked. i couldn’t track down a janitor to open the door, but i went this morning and got it. i’m so sorry i worried you sweetheart :( 💕💕 i love you thank you for checking up on me
> 
> **to: stevieboy (8:40 AM)**
> 
> thanks for the messages steve and thanks for keeping bucky calm. i’m sure he’ll tell you but i left my phone in my class yesterday and couldn’t get it till today. sorry again dude, hope your trip is going good!
> 
> **from: buckybear (8:42 AM)**
> 
> holy shit clint i’m so glad you’re okay. i couldn’t help but think of the worst scenarios, u kno how my brain works. i’m just glad you’re okay. ♡♡♡♡
> 
> **from: buckybear (8:44 AM)**
> 
> i swear i’m gonna get gray hairs by 25 from dealing with you at this rate (-᷅_-᷄ )

The message leaves a bad taste in Clint’s mouth, and a sinking feeling in his chest. God, he really is a burden to his boyfriend and friends, huh? Through the lump in his throat, he replies.

> **to: buckybear (8:45 AM)**
> 
> i’m really really sorry buck :( i’m sorry you have to deal with all my stupid shit, i know i’m a lot to deal with
> 
> **from: buckybear (8:47 AM)**
> 
> ah shoot that text probably came off way too harsh. i didn’t mean it like that. i love you clint, i seriously do. even the shit you think is stupid. i really don’t care if i get gray hairs, as long as they come from you, and you’re still around to see them. ♡
> 
> **from: buckybear (8:48 AM)**
> 
> i hope today is better for you and i can’t wait to see you sunday (*´꒳`*)
> 
> **to: buckybear (8:50 AM)**
> 
> i love you too 💜 i miss you more than you could know. you’re the sweetest

Clint feels better after getting those texts, and rolls over to sleep some more. Hopefully by the time Bucky gets home, he won’t be sick anymore.

———

Bucky frowns at his phone, and Steve asks him what’s wrong.

“Something seems off about Clint. I mean, his story sounds believable, but you know how protective he is of his phone. He’s never once left it somewhere. He can’t afford a new one, so he guards that thing like crazy.”

Steve hums, thinking, before responding.

“I mean, what he told us is possible. He might just be a bit more scatterbrained when he’s busy with school. I’d give him the benefit of the doubt,” Steve says, frowning a bit in contemplation.

“It’s not just that though. I sent a joke text about him giving me gray hairs and he got really hurt,” Bucky says, and rolls his eyes when Steve gives him a ‘seriously?’ look.

“Don’t give me that look Stevie. We joke all the time. It’s not even the first time I’ve made that joke. I don’t think Clint is as fine as he’s acting.”

“Well you know him best. What do you want to do?” Steve asks. Bucky sighs, and considers his options.

“Let’s go home a day early maybe? It’s not like we have much to do tomorrow besides sit in this hotel room or socialize with my family. Which we’ve definitely done enough of,” Bucky snorts, and looks to Steve for his opinion.

“Why are you even asking if I want to leave early? I’ve been ready to go since Tuesday,” Steve laughs, going to the hotel closer to start packing.

“I thought maybe you’d want to spend another day with Tony,” Bucky replies, smirking. Steve throws himself out of the closet, and splutters, face growing redder by the moment. Bucky barks out a laugh, before Steve cuts him off.

“Shut up Bucky! If you say anything to him I'll tell your mom about the summer camp incident.”

When Bucky doesn’t stop laughing, he starts to pout.

“Besides, he lives like 20 minutes away from our campus, I can see him whenever,” he mumbles petulantly, making Bucky cackle.

———

Clint spends most of his Friday in bed again. He gets up to pee once, and ends up dry heaving into the toilet once again. When the only thing that comes up is bile (and Clint’s will to live), he considers eating a bit. He’s not stupid, he knows he needs to get something in his stomach to get his immune system back up.

Looking into the mini fridge in his room (the one he found covered in sharpie and a bit dented on the street by the frat houses), he sees almost nothing (which isn’t unusual). There’s a slightly mushy apple, and half a cheese stick, and he grabs both. Somehow, he manages to get them down, and it actually makes him feel less nauseous. Instead of going back to sleep, he pulls out his homework and gets to work.

He sends Bucky a text or two, asking about the wedding and such, and takes a nap. Clint feels confident that he’s found a way to get better by Sunday.

Of course, Clint has the worst luck and the worst life and the worst body, because he wakes up at 6AM Saturday feeling worse. His fever has returned with a passion, and he barely makes it to the bathroom before he’s throwing up half his ‘meal’ from the day before. He cries a bit, as he stumbles his way back to bed, and curls under his blanket.

Clint misses Bucky so much it hurts. He wishes his boyfriend was here to take care of him. Guilt be damned, he wishes Natasha and Sam would come and give him medicine. He wishes Steve would come make him soup.

But he can’t call them. He can’t burden them with his problems, he can’t ask them to take time away from their important schedules to baby him. He’s not a child. He’s been taking care of himself for so long, he can do it for another few days. He's used to it at this point.

His head pounds and breathing out of his mouth is starting to make his throat sore. He has no options left expect to sleep.

———

Bucky and Steve drop their stuff in their dorm room, before heading to Clint’s room to surprise him.

“What if he’s still sleeping?” Steve worries, as Bucky pulls out his spare key. Bucky raises an eyebrow at the smaller boy, and laughs.

“You know Clint is up early on the weekends to work on his online class. He’s probably already awake-“ Bucky cuts off as he opens the door to see the lights off. He furrows his brow, confused, and steps into the room. It’s bright enough outside that the room is lit up, and he sees a lump in Clint’s bed.

“Told ya,” Steve grumbles, closing the door quietly behind them. Bucky rolls his eyes, and walks over to Clint to wake him up. But when he gets close enough, he instantly gets concerned.

Clint’s face is blotchy and pink, his nose is red and dry, his hair is a tangled mess (more so than usual), and there’s sweat breaking out on his forehead. He looks closer, and sees that Clint is shaking under his blanket. When Bucky places a hand gently on his head, he’s burning up. He’s also breathing out of his mouth, which Clint doesn’t usually do while sleeping.

“Is he sick? Is that what he was hiding?” Steve whispers, leaning in to observing the sleeping form. Bucky sighs sadly and nods his head.

“He probably didn’t want to ask for help. You know how he is about that...” Bucky trails off, pushing Clint’s hair back a bit.

He shakes Clint’s shoulder softly.

———

Slowly, Clint’s eyes open up, and he rubs at them blearily. He whines at the pain in his head, and the sensitive feeling of his skin that the fever brought back. He's disoriented, as he has been every time he's woken up in the past few days. Closing his eyes against the sunlight coming through the windows, he reaches for his hearing aids and puts them in.

"-int. Hey, Clint, can you hear me?" Bucky's voice filters in. The sound is so startling that Clint yelps, and twists around to the voice. He blinks a few times before fully registering that it's Bucky standing in front of him, Steve hovering behind.

"Bucky? What the hell are you doing here? Oh shit, is it Sunday already?" Clint mumbles, too exhausted to really be shocked. With how he's spent the past few days, he wouldn't be surprised if he did sleep through a whole day without noticing. Bucky reaches out and smooths over Clint's head.

"No dumbass, it's still Saturday. Why didn't you tell me you were sick? I would've come home sooner to take care of you," Bucky says softly. Guilt starts to eat at Clint again.

"That's just it. Didn't want to ruin your vacation. Still don't. Don't worry about me, I'll be fine, I just need to rest more," Clint says, forcing his weak muscles to pull himself into a sitting position.

The motion makes his stomach turn, and he’s out of bed and bolting to the bathroom. He throws up basically nothing, but the gagging won’t stop, and tears start up again.  
  
But this time, someone comes in and rubs gentle circles on his back. Bucky presses up behind him, whispering soft, soothing words. Clint hears another pair of footsteps, and the tap turn on, and then a cool washcloth is being pressed against the back of his neck. When he finally pulls away from the toilet, a glass of water is brought to his mouth, and he rinses out the gross taste. The washcloth is dabbed against his forehead, and he leans back heavily against Bucky.  
  
“Sorry,” Clint rasps out, too tired and weak to feel entirely embarrassed over his current situation. Bucky breathes out a small laugh, and pets Clint’s hair back.  
  
“Why're you sorry? You can't control it,” he replies. Clint shakes his head lightly, and has to clear his throat to prevent the onslaught of tears threatening to come out again.  
  
“C’mon, lets get you back to bed,” Bucky says, helping pull Clint up and out of the bathroom. Clint notices that Steve has disappeared. He assumes that he grossed Steve out too much. Or maybe Steve is mad at him.  
  
Bucky makes Clint sit on his desk chair while he goes to strip the bed of the sheets and replace them with clean ones. Clint, through his foggy head and shivering body can’t help but feel guilty. Bucky has just arrived home, and here he was, cleaning up after Clint. Like he was a child or incompetent or something.  
  
When Bucky goes across the room to toss the old sheets in Clint’s laundry basket, Clint stands up to put the new ones on. He wants to contribute, doesn’t want Bucky to have to do all this work for him. His knees are wobbling and there’s ringing in his ears (that remind him of when his father first beat his hearing right out of his head), but he tries to focus on the task at hand. He needs to do this himself.  
  
“Hey, hey, hey! What are you doing? Sit down Clint!” Bucky rushes, reaching out to steady Clint. Clint shakes his head, and grips the sheets tighter.  
  
“No Buck, don’t worry. I can do it. I promise I can, you don’t have to do this for me,” Clint says, blinking heavily as he gets more and more lightheaded.  
  
“...don’t wanna be a burden...” he slurs out, tunnel vision taking over his sight.  
  
He comes to not long after, with Bucky’s panicked face above him.

"Clint! Oh thank god you're awake," he sighs, closing his eyes in obvious relief. Clint rubs a hand over his face.

"Fuck. Sorry," he says.

"Clint, seriously, stop trying to do everything by yourself. Let me help."

"You don't have to though, I'll be fine."

Bucky groans in response as he finishes fixing the sheets. He helps Clint back into bed, and sits on the edge of the bed next to him.

"Let me take care of you. There's no shame in asking for help. I love you and I want to do this for you, okay? Put down your pride for a minute and just let me help."

Clint feels a rush of warmth in his chest, and reaches out for Bucky's hand. He smiles sheepishly up at him.

"Okay."

Clint knows that it will take time for him to really accept help from others. There will be more times where he'll hide stuff from his friends and boyfriend. It's a learned habit.

But for now, he can relax in his bed while Steve brings back medicine and Bucky lays with him. He can start with this.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote almost all of this in a day. I couldn't stop thinking about it. Then I got lost with an ending and I don't know if I really like it or not. IDK SORRY lol


End file.
